Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (2% full).
Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 68 degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 10 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.19 and falling, and the relative humidity is 54 percent. The dewpoint is 51 degrees Fahrenheit (10 degrees Celsius.)
It is currently 20:45 Pacific Time on Sat Aug 18 2001.
Roach Motel: Bachelorette Pad(#4128RAJ$)
Small, but inviting, this little apartment is clearly dwelling of a person who spends a lot of time at home. The sitting area has a reclining chair with heating, massage, and built in stereo speakers. The sofa is big enough to fit two comfortably. The home entertainment center is overloaded with scores of books. Titles like "Rescuing the Bible From Middle America" or "Zarathustra: Modernism in Antiquity" can be seen here, along with dozens of dime-store paperbacks. Though the TV set and all its accompanying equipment take up quite as much space as the books, the electronics are somewhat dwarfed by the quantity of reading material. A fine writing table and a computer desk are crowded in, the computer powered up and humming softly. Two swivelling office chairs sit nearby, at attention. The walls are decorated with nature scenes, among them a well-rendered image of a pack of wolves howling at a full moon.
The kitchen looks as if it might never have been cooked in. A small microwave on the counter is still blinking "12:00", no one having bothered to set the clock. Beside it is an electric can opener. The only evidence of use is a single glass in the stainless steel sink and a few fast-food bags in the trashcan. The sole decoration on the refrigerator is a postcard bearing a photograph of a monstrous, grimy power plant with "Come to Hanford!" printed on the bottom in fluorescent green.
Through a door opposite the kitchen, the tiny bedroom looks slightly more lived-in. On top of a black particle-board dresser sit a hairbrush, a few hair-ties, and several plastic hairclips, along with a small pile of cheap costume jewelry. A frame designed to hold several of snapshots is hung squarely on the wall. One bed is made, a bright yellow bedspread bravely trying to cheer up the room. Another is made half-heartedly, the bedspread just carelessly tossed over the top, as if to humor someone.
John knocks on the door; a few quiet raps.
"Coming" Dizzy opens the door. "Oh," she says, not hiding the fact that she's disapointed that it's him, "Hello Rhya."
John lifts an arm to lean in the doorframe, looking down at her consideringly. "Got a minute?"
Dizzy nods and takes a step back. "Of course."
The man's head tilts a little, and the corners of his mouth start to quirk upwards in a near-smile. "Wanna have a little fun?" he queries, with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Dizzy's face brightens for a second, then returns to a frown, looking highly skeptical. "What kind of fun?"
He starts straight-out smiling, now. "Know how to fire a gun?"
The cub girl blinks. "A gun?" She shakes her head negatively, "No, I haven't... but I'm going to hazard a guess that I'm about to learn."
John hitches a shoulder in a small shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. I actually had other plans. But knowing how to shoot will probably make things a little more fun." He straightens up, and lifts a beckoning finger. "Come on."
"Other plans?" Dizzy cautiously follows the ahroun.
John makes his way down the steps, staying largely silent on his way to the basement. At the basement steps, he pauses to tap in the code to the door, and then push it open, gesturing for her to go inside, first.
Basement(#2835RJ)
The basement consists of plain cement flooring and walls. Aside from one wall, which is made out of metal and has a matching steel door. This leads into the second half of the basement. Nothing has been done to make the place homey at all. It is little more then a cement cube. With a small drain in the middle of the floor, and a hose curled up and resting neatly in one corner. Large chucks have been torn out of the cement walls and are in various stages of repair.
The infirmary is the second half of the basement. There are three cots in the room, along with a storage cabinet that holds simple bandages, to IV bags and painkillers that should not be available outside of a hospital. The floor is covered by a thick pile rug, while the walls are a warm rosy color. The buildings furnace is tucked into one corner, occasionally roaring into life.
Dizzy walks in first and looks aound. "We're going to be firing in here?"
John nods, following her in and closing the door behind him. "It's sound-proofed. And..." He shrugs, gesturing to the partially-destroyed/repaired concrete wall. "Well. I let go in here, sometimes. It's safe."
Dizzy ohs. "I wondered what happened to that wall."
John shrugs and takes a few steps over to it, lifting a hand high above his head to finger the rough edges that have been clawed or chipped out, there, and partially filled in with cement. "Mmm." he notes, noncommitally, and then starts to shrug out of his trenchcoat.
Dizzy takes another look around, "So, does this mean that I'm going to have to carry a gun around when I go out? I suppose it would help when I can't change."
"Veil's a delicate thing." John murmurs. "The only thing you have to do is show them your glabro'd face, and they know that something's amiss." He shrugs, folding the trechcoat up over one arm, and tossing it into the corner of the room. "We can't afford to breach the veil. People will start looking into our activities, and you know what sort of chaos that would cause."
Dizzy nods. "Yeah... So, are there targets or something to shoot at, or are we just going to fire at the wall?"
The door to the lobby swings open, and Sophia's voice tumbles down the stairs, "Hello? Anybody around?"
John gives Dizzy a sidelong glance, and flashes an incredibly brief grin, before starting to remove the heavy leather jacket. Slipping it off his arms reveals the harness around his chest, and the two shiny, oversized nines holstered there. And the knife in sheath strapped to his chest.
Dizzy blinks at the hardware, then turns her head quickly at her roommate's voice. "Sophie?" she calls out. "We're in the basement."
Sophia breathes a sigh of relief and trots down the stairs. "Oh, thank goodness. People."
John looks up, frowning slightly at the elder cub. "Hello." he greets in confusion, folding up his jacket, and then tossing it to join the trenchcoat. He starts unstrapping his rig. "Done with the woods?"
"Are you just here for a visit?" Dizzy asks, "You /have/ to tell me what happened." She offers Sophia a sincere smile, glad that she has returned.
Sophia shrugs. "I'm just so tired of being alone in the dark. I can't find anyone out there... I can smell them, but when I get to where they were, they've gone again. I just wanted one night in a bed, with hot water and people jabbering. That's... that's ok, right?" She looks at the jacket, and at the weapons, wondering what she's walked in on.
John's frown turns into something resembling a smile. "That's fair." he notes, and then carries about unstrapping his weaponry from his frame. Dangling the rig, and pulling the left handgun out, he paces over to the tossed garments, and gently puts the black straps and remining weapons down.
The ragabash cub's eyes drift over to the handguns and she considers them cautiously. "Isn't it hard to get food and stuff while lupus, though?" Dizzy asks.
Sophia scratches her neck and tilts her head. Looking at John as she speaks to Dizzy, she explains, "You um... hunt." She turns to the other cub now and asks John, "Are you doing some kind of combat training?"
John inclines his head in the affirmative, and slips a finger to eject the clip in his weapon. The gun is oversized and covered in a polished silvery finish. The barrel is particularly thick, and the trigger-guard excessively large. This gun could probably be used in glabro. Checking the ammo in the mag, before slipping it back in with a satisfying click, John murmurs, "Getting food's easier in lupus than it is in homid. You only have to do a little running for it. Not work."
"Well, Corey and I couldn't catch _anything_," Dizzy divulges.
Sophia frowns and looks at John. "You took them hunting? How come they didn't find quarry?"
John shakes his head a little, eyeing Dizzy. "I didn't know you hadn't caught anything. And I brought you a damn deer." His mouth twists. "Sometime when you're not both bleeding all over the place, I'll get you to work on that."
"Yeah," Dizzy says, nodding. "I suppose we would have eventually caught _something_ though, if we had stayed out long enough. Corey or I would have thought of something."
Sophia's brow is wrinkled and contorted as she looks from John to Dizzy. "So you went hunting alone? How'd you get them to let you two go?"
John folds his arms and taps the barrel of his gun against his arm, looking to Dizzy to explain it.
Dizzy explains, simply, "We escaped." She looks to Sophie to gague her reaction. "We got caught of course. It was real bloody." Her face scrunches up, "Not something I'd care to repeat."
Sophia sighs at Dizzy's nonchalance and watches the motion of the gun with obvious suspicion. "Don't you think you ought to teach her first with a gun that won't recoil as much? That thing will knock her flat on her ass."
John shrugs a little, lifting the gun and inspecting it. "Nah. Only nine mil rounds. She won't feel a thing. Custom built, nitro-cooled barrel for semi-permanent sound and flash suppression, weight keeps the thing from kicking."
Dizzy eyes John cautiously, "Does all that actually mean something or is it like Jeremy's computer talk?"
Momentary uncertainty washes over and off of Sophia's face. "It means the bullets are little and the gun is fancy, which is why it's so big," she explains. "Probably real fancy. You aren't... gonna let her /have/ that, are you?" Jealousy flickers in her eyes.
John's eyes widen and he makes a flatly disbelieving snort. "She's not even going to /touch/ it." he grunts, looking at Sophia as if she'd gone mad. "I meant, nin mil slugs are small, and you'll hardly feel them when they hit you." His eyes flick over to Dizzy. "See, the size of the round is the part which determines how much damage you're going to do. Not the gun itself. Well. Rarely."
Dizzy nods, but it's obvious she's still a bit confused. "How am I going to learn to shoot without touching the gun?" She glances over to Sophia, illogically, as if she might have the answer.
Sophia's jaw drops. She rubs her forehead, clenching her eyes. "So you're really gonna do this? I thought you were just talking shit."
John shrugs and lowers his free hand to start pulling his t-shirt off his body and over his head. The scars are revealed in their full glory, now... from the dozens of slashes and gashes, through to the immediately distinctive blaze of red that stretches from his right armpit to below the waist of his jeans. And now, increasingly conspicuous, the spattering of bullet-wound scars appear to be more than just a little relevant. "No, it's important. Jonathan went into shock, instead of frenzying or shifting. You know how I feel about that. I never want any of you to be in a similar position." He shifts his shoulders about, tossing his shirt to one side, and then stretching powerful muscles. "So." he murmurs. " need you to know the embrace of hot lead, and make it your friend."
Realization dawning on Dizzy, she panics. "You're gonna /shoot/ me?! Hell /no/." She shakes her head and heads for the door quickly, wanting no part of this.
Sophia stands aside, letting Dizzy pass. For once, she can sympathize with the disobedient streak.
John's voice rings out, cold and commanding. "You will stop right where you are, cub. Walking out that door will be suicide on your part. You know the difference between claws and bullets, don't you."
Dizzy stops, and turns around, angry. "Yeah, it won't take days to heal the bullet wounds, right? But you see, I've got this thing about pain. You know I can heal after you ripped into my side and put a couple of nice holes in my neck, why shoot me too?"
John inclines his head in agreement. "Yes. And you didn't shift. You cowered and whimpered. As was appropriate. You need to be able to function." He lifts a hand to beckon Sophia towards him, and the other stretches out the weapon - offering it to her.
Sophia steps closer, but does not take the weapon. "I'll shoot myself. I'm not shooting her."
"I didn't shift because I was already a wolf!" Dizzy exclaims, "And I sure as hell wasn't going to attack you."
John shakes his head to Sophia. "You're shooting me. Demonstration time." The beckoning hand turns palm-up. "Why do you think I took my shirt off?" Looking back to Dizzy, now, he shrugs. "No. Human and glabro. You need to be able to stay standing if you can. Hold onto something. Dial a phone, pull a weapon, look /mean/. We're Walkers. The streets are ours, and no guns are going to help push us around."
Sophia reaches out and takes the gun tentatively. "You sure about this? You're not gonna get pissed and freak out or something, are you? Cuz if you did, we two couldn't contain you."
Dizzy is dumbfounded and quickly calmed by confusion. "You're getting shot?" She looks over to her roommate, "And you're gonna shot him?"
John drops his hands, and then folds his arms. "Have you seen the moon, tonight? I haven't. But I know it's empty." Taking in both cubs, now, he grunts, "This is the entire point of the exercise. We are Walkers. We live in the city, and shooting /will/ happen at some point, if we're to fulfil my plans for the tribe. And it will happen to you eventually, anyway. The odds are pretty good. What you have to be able to do is reconcile with this. Make shooting the same as if someone was trying to punch you. Ineffective. You can't let it anger you into frenzy, or kill you."
Sophia shrugs, her expression suggesting that she's willing to go along with whatever crazy plan John has lined up. "Just say when, boss..." She wraps her hand around the butt of the gun, getting used to its weight. She aims it at the floor, her trigger finger straight along the barrel.
Dizzy glances from her roommate to John, disbeliving that this is actually going to happen, oblivious to the fact that she's probably next.
John nods to Sophia in confirmation. "Abdomen or chest, please." he notes, mildly. "A bullet in my brain /will/ kill me if I don't shift fast enough to catch it. And I'd rather not have to buy a new pair of pants." His mouth twists wryly. "And if you're good enough, try hitting just a straight pack of muscle, not vital organs." Looking to Dizzy again, he murmurs, "Though even in the birth form, we can't shift... we're still a good deal tougher than normal humans."
Sophia moves far enough away that she feels like she has a bit more control of the weapon. She brings her right hand and the gun up, leveling it with John's torso. The left comes to aid the right, and she takes aim. Left eye clenched, she hesitates, deciding what to target. She lines the gun up with John's left shoulder, just below the collarbone. Pressing the air from her chest, she pulls the trigger.
Reflexively, Dizzy closes her eyes and flinches as the shot goes off. Her eyes pop back open alsmost instantly, to see how John has taken the shot.
The weapon gives a dull crunching thud, highly inappropriate for its calibre. Almost before the sound, John flinches, and his shoulder jerks back a little. One hand flies to his arm to hold it tight to his chest. In what's almost a delayed reaction, he grunts faintly with pain, gritting his teeth. Then... "Again."
The barrel of the gun shakes perceptibly as Sophia prepares to fire again. "If you say so," she whines. She takes aim a few inches to the left, toward the arm. "Move your hand out of the way. I don't want to hit it."
John's brow furrows, and he just grunts in mild irritation, "You think some punk's gonna care if he shoots your hand? Shoot."
Sophia closes her left eye and breathes out, firing at John's upper arm.
Dizzy flinches again. She briefly entertains the thought of leaving again, because there is no way she's going to be able to take it as calm as John is. On the other hand, it probably beats getting all clawed up again.
This time, the aim's off a little. The bullet smacks into his chest, just below a pectoral muscle. He winces and grunts with the pain again, tilting his head to one side and screwing his face up a little. "Gaia!" The fingers of his hand slap over the wound as he checks to see where he's been hit. Routine. This is normal.
Sophia wrinkles her nose. Her only comment is, "Ick."
"Arn't you going to shift?" Dizzy asks.
John shakes his head a little, trying to smooth his features over into a merely sour expression. He's tentatively testing his breathing to make sure his lung hasn't been punctured. "Shoot again. Twice." he murmurs, distractedly, as he feels the breathing.
Sophia sighs. "I really don't enjoy this, just so you know." She takes aim more carefully this time, the barrel of the gun flat and steady as she aims for John's shoulder and fires. "I'd rather shoot at your feet," she adds as she pulls the trigger a second time.
Dizzy now watches in morbid fascination. Suprised that he's going to be taking so many bullets without dying.
The third shot catches him in the collarbone, and his face scrunches up in pain at it as he jerks back. The next further over and higher grazing his lifted shoulder. He staggers back on one foot and gasps with the pain, groaning, "Mother of /fuck/..." between clenched teeth.
Sophia sighs and drops her hands to her sides, the weapon pointed at the floor. "Is that enough? I think we get the point. Now you're just showing off."
"What's going to happen to the bullets when you heal?" Dizzy asks. "Are they just going to get healed over or do our bodies expell them?"
He's wobbling on his feet now, and there's that tell-tale rippling of muscle and stretching of skin that comes with shifting. Repressed. "Yeah." he grunts tightly, almost laughing with the absurdity. /Duh/... He grunts softly again - a forced expulsion of air and tension from pain - before muttering quietly, "Ahhh.... /fuck/..." as he grips his arm, and lets himself shift up towards glabro. "Point's proven... I give in, I'd be a fucking idiot to hav--FUCK-- taken this many and be homid, anyway. You get shot, you hit glabro." He starts to shift.
Sophia nods and shakes the gun hand a bit. "You want me to cap myself in the leg or somethin' before I put this up?"
Dizzy looks at her roommate as if she's crazy, "Shoot yourself?"
John grunts again, dropping his head and shaking it in the negative. "Get Dizzy. Or me. S'not the same if you know. Where. Mother." He grows taller, wider, and hair starts appearing over his back, thickening in patches on his chest, where it remains free of the scarring. "Bullets come out. Just.../fuck/." An already-healed pectoral muscle rips open as a slightly-compacted lead slug pokes its way through.
Sophia shrugs. "I'd rather do it myself, if it's gotta be done. But whatever you say, boss. You know how to use a gun, Diz? I'll tradja. Like kids swapping punches, y'know? It doesn't have to be that big a deal." She tries to make her voice sound casual, but internally she is far from relaxed.
Dizzy shakes her head. "No. I haven't ever fired a gun before." She also holds up her hand in refusal of the offer to take the gun.
John straightens up, still wincing a little, though the wounds are healing over. He flinches every time a bullet forces its way out of his body, breaking the thick skin, again. Plucking the three slugs out, he curls them up in his hand, and starts towards Sophia. "I'll do it. Get your legs or arms or whatever naked, so you don't bleed everywhere, or put holes in your clothes. We're not some fucking Get." He seems to be ignoring the trails of blood that have worked their way down to his own jeans.
Sophia holds the gun out to John. "I um... can't do much in this but take my shirt off. That's just going to have to be okay, cuz it's all I got."
Dizzy leans up against the wall, closing her eyes, wishing that she was anywhere but here. She knows she's going to have her turn.
John takes the weapon, and checks it over carefully; to the point of ejecting the clip, and checking the breach to see if his baby's okay after being fired by a stranger. "Whatever. Tell me where you want it, roughly, and I'll improvise."
Sophia turns her back and takes off her t-shirt. "Somewhere there's skin," she says, facing the wall. This is as much to conceal the anxiety in her face as for the sake of modesty.
"I don't belive this," Dizzy mutters under her breath.
John loads the weapon up and chambers a round, before raising it. "You should take it in front, during practice." he grunts. "If /anyone/ shoots me in the back, at /any/ time, the reaction will be unpleasant." he grumbles warningly, then runs a blood-stained hand over his chest, to wipe some of it off. He waits a few moments, aiming the gun at her, and shifts about a little. "Alright. Firing." he grunts, narrowing his eyes and pointing the gun directly at the shoulderblade.
Sophia breathes deeply, trying to keep herself from shaking. She drops the shirt and raises her head. "Ready," she says, standing tall and proud to conceal her horror.
Dizzy stares at her roommate, not beliving that she'll be able to take a bullet like John just did.
"I don't care how you're feeling, remember. Just /don't frenzy/. And be prepared for a /lot/ of pain. Despite how I took it... that was me about to faint." His mouth twists ruefully. "It hurts like a motherfucker." he grunts, before narrowing his eyes and firing at the shoulder.
Sophia's scream is as white-hot as the pain. "Fuuuuuck!" she yells, lurching forward. She shifts up into Glabro and turns to glare at John. "SonufaBITCH!"
Dizzy flinches, again. She looks at John, then quickly back to Sophie. "Are you okay?" she inquires of her roommate, taking a step towards her, a concerned look on her face.
The Ahroun winces, with a sour look coming to his face. "Again, maybe." he mutters. "That was... pretty conspicuous." John sighs, and puts the weapon up, waiting for Sophia to heal.
Sophia's throat creaks like a rusty hinge. She drops herself to the floor slowly, wincing at putting weight on her arms. Carefully, she lays on the concrete, belly down. "It hurts like motherfuckin' bitch. Whad'ya expect?"
Dizzy blinks, shakes her head, then kneels by her roommate, removing her bangs from her face to set them behind her ears. "Is there anything you need? Alchol or something for the wound?" She looks around and rests her gaze on the Ahroun, "Or I guess not... this isn't like when you tore Corey and I up. It's faster, right?"
John's mouth twists wryly. The displeasure at shooting her is fairly obvious. "Well. Look at it this way. Sure. You'll heal in just a minute. But. You wanna be caught screaming like a girl and gripping at yourself when someone hits you in a shoot-out? No. You wanna cap the fucker who's shooting you. Hard to do that while you're screaming and hitting the floor."
Sophia turns her head to glare at Dizzy. "I swear. If you so much as come /near/ me with a bottle of alcohol, I'll rip your throat out." She doesn't reply to John, though she winces slightly at the realization that she did look pretty weak screaming like that.
The ragabash cub's eyes narrow, "Something wrong with being a girl?" She ignores her roommate, standing to glare at John.
John nods curtly, eyes still on Sophia. "Yeah. They go down like a sack of bricks at virtually anything. Gotta work twice as hard to be an asskicker." He frowns and gives a little jerk of the head to Sophia. "You OK for another shot, babe?"
Sophia grits her teeth and tries to sound sarcastic. "Sure. Whatever. Put me out of my misery." She slowly pushes herself up from the ground, but once there she rather wishes she hadn't. "Ow," she remarks coolly.
Grumbling, Dizzy walks back out of the line of fire. Time to start formilating a plan to do something humiliating to John.
John raises the weapon again, and continues to frown at Sophia. "Be ready. Catch!" is the only warning he barks out, before shooting her in the other shoulder - almost identically placed.
Sophia lurches backward, stepping back so as not to fall. "Fucker," she says, glaring at John. "Now /both/ arms are gonna hurt." She grits her teeth, determined not to make this second wound a big production. "I oughta slap you for that shit."
If not for the fact that knows that John would tear her apart for leaving the room, Dizzy would be out of there so fast. Instead, she finds a place to sit, shaking her head at her roommate's language. Stupid kid, only talking like that so she can pretend she's mature.
John nods approvingly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards again. "Perfect. If you catch a bullet and give that line to some punk, he'll be running like fuck, with shit dribbling out of his pants." The Ahroun frowns. "Or filling you with extra lead. So. Best to pull your own gun before then."
Sophia's cheeks turn red and she lowers her eyes at John. "I didn't say it for your enjoyment. That was unnecessary. If it weren't for the fact that it'll heal, I'd be really pissed off." She turns to Dizzy, and offers a warning. "It really does sting, though."
"Is there any way I can get out of getting shot?" Dizzy pleads. "God, this is like some sort of twisted gang initiation."
John shrugs a little. "Try jabbing yourself with a knife and letting it heal, to see how quickly the pain goes away? Only a minute. Sometimes even less. Seconds. And... yes. It is similar to a twisted gang initiation. But more like a training camp for terrorists. You'll be able to put down, on your resume, that you've been shot." The Ahroun looks to Sophia. "Should be feeling better. Yes?"
Sophia chuckles painfully at Dizzy. "That thought occurred to you too? Well... there's a lot about being a cub that's like some twisted gang initiation, though, I guess." She shrugs to test her shoulders. "Feeling better, yes. Still not good, though."
Dizzy frets, "And we can't shift to heal it right now either? Oh geeze. Why couldn't have Jer just left me alone. Since then I've been locked up, torn up, biten, and now I'm about to get _shot_!"
John shakes his head mildly. "Don't shift /crinos/. If bullets start flying /anywhere/ near you, you hit glabro and try to keep your face and hands covered." he grunts. "Glabro. I do it. Immediately. It's the only thing that'll stand a chance at saving you from a bullet to the brain. And it happens more often than you might think."
Sophia nods at John, and then, as if a new thought has occurred to her, she slowly turns her face toward Dizzy, blinking a few times. "What the hell does /he/ have to do with it? You're not... no. You're not. You will not. You wouldn't," she says, peering into Dizzy's eyes. "... would you?"
Dizzy folds her hands in her lap, looking down. "I dun like glabro," she mutters under her breath. Dizzy looks up at her roommate, "What does Jeremy have to do with it? If he didn't kidnap me that night I wouldn't have changed. I'm almost twenty-one. Judging from all the other cubs I've seen, there seems to be a limit to when people can change. I think I would rather have stayed human."
John just eyes Dizzy warily. "Yeah. And then when you're in a tragic car accident, or giving birth, you wig out and kill a few dozen people and go insane wondering what the fuck's wrong with you, and kill yourself out of guilt. No. Better this way. Now grow up and take your bullets like a man." The Cliath tilts his head. "Would you prefer Sophia or I shot you?"
Sophia relaxes visibly and waits for an answer.
First Dizzy looks at John, then to Sophie, then back at John. "I have to get shot?" she pleads again for a reprieve.
John snorts, lifting the weapon and tilting it at an angle, as if to offer it to the older girl. "Who? Sophia or me? Pick. Quick. Or I'll find somewhere painful to hit, and'll ruin your clothes."
Dizzy chews on her bottom lip and glances over to her roommate, then looks back at the Ahroun. "You shoot me. I don't want to accidentally get shot in the head or anything."
Sophia shrugs and nods. "Good. You're too skinny to make a good target, anyway."
John smiles a little, and nods. "That's fair. Where do you want it? Strip off wherever."
Where does she want to get shot? Nowhere, that's where! Oh well. Resigning, Dizzy removes her shirt and lays it down on the ground at her feet. She tightens up, clenching her fists and eyes closed as tightly as she can. "Okay, shoot me." Dizzy's never been particularly religious, but she finds herself silently begging whatever higher power exists to let her live.
Sophia smiles weakly, sympathizing with Dizzy's position.
John shrugs and murmurs, "S'easier if you have your eyes open. And just remember. Don't. Frenzy. Got it?" He doesn't wait for a response - just fires at a shoulder.
Reeling from the shot, Dizzy falls to the ground. She grabs her wounded shoulder with her opposite hand, crying out in holy terror. She rolls around a bit, deluded that it might actually help with the intense pain. She doesn't shift yet, and curls up, waiting to see if there is going to be another shot.
Sophia raises her eyebrows, surprised. "Damn," she remarks. "/That's/ dramatic."
John looks worriedly down the barrel of the gun, before lowering the weapon. "Uhm. Maybe I needed to repeat myself. It hurts like a motherfucker. Shift."
Fast as she can, Dizzy shifts into wolf form, just like the night in the alley. It's the first thing that comes to mind as soon as she hears the okay for the shift. She doesn't even consider that John would rather she change to glabro, both times she's had the stuffing beat out of her, she's either been in or gone to lupus, it's almost like a security blanket. Spins-in-Circles slowly stands up, now trying to actively ignore the pain, it should be gone soon.
Sophia tilts her head at Dizzy. "How you feelin', pup?"
John frowns. "That's no good. Glabro. Don't want people gibbering madly about shifters. That's the whole point of this. Staying humanoid. Maintaining the veil." He gives a curt half-nod. "Glabro. Now."
Pained, Spins-in-Circles looks up at her roommate, then over to John. She sits down and closes her eyes, slowly shifting towards glabro, taking her time.
Sophia sighs and sits down, rolling her shoulders to ease the pain. She watches Dizzy with interest.
John sighs. "You can do better than that. Look. Sit a minute. It'll start feeling better almost immediately. Already is, see?"
Dizzy nods her head, sighing. She winces and shifts uncomfortably where she sits. She looks down at her shoulder, not as bloody as she expected. Her gaze drifts to her hand, which also has less blood on it than she expected. Apparently movies are not all that realistic.
Sophia nods up at John. "Yeah... it really doesn't feel that bad anymore."
"You remember this." The Ahroun grunts, tilting his head, watching Dizzy. "Hurts like hell, but it's only temporary. Stay glabro. Don't get stressed." Tapping the gun against his other hand, he adds, "Let alone frenzy or turn wolf."
Dizzy nods again, staying there until the pain goes away. Yes, later, carefully planned out. Something bad to John. Humiliating would be good, but he can't know. This will be hard to do.
Sophia looks at the gun and then to John. "Are we done yet? I'd really like to go take a shower."
John jerks his head up a little. "Up. On your feet. Show some balls, like Soph. Up." Looking to Sophia, the elder nods. "Go for it. We'll do this again, sometime."
Sophia stands and nods to Diz. "It's not all that bad, now, is it?" She heads for the stairs.
Dizzy slowly takes to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I don't have balls," she glances, over to Sophia, tilting her head, "And I'd bet that my foul mouthed roommate doesn't either."
John's mouth twists wryly, and he eyes Dizzy and Sophia alternately.
Sophia rolls her eyes and begins climbing the stairs. "What's wrong with being a girl?"
"I'd bet there is some werewolf girl out there who could show you what's up," Dizzy notes to the Ahroun.
John nods, starting to smile, somewhat. "New one in town might be able to, actually. Adren. As in... don't fuck with." He tilts his head. "Still think I could take the blows better than her, but that's irrelevant. /You/ need to know how to take this without curling up into a little ball. Now. You're healed. Straighten up. Again." He aims the weapon.
Sophia winces and leaves the basement.
Dizzy shakes her head wildly, holding out her hands. "NO!" she screams.
John winces, lowering the gun. "Look. Take your time, fine. But look at yourself. Are you hurt? No." His eyes narrow. "Don't you even get some sort of kick out of it or something? A feeling of invincibility?"
Dizzy puts her hands down and shakes her head, "No way. If we rarely live past thirty, I don't think that we can be _that_ invincible."
John snorts. "That's because we die to /supernatural/ things. I'll be fucked if I let some punk with a pistol take me down." He ejects the clip from the gun and checks the number of rounds left in it. "What's your problem, here?"
Dizzy glares at John, "I'd be willing to bet that if I emptied a gun into you, you'd probably die, Mr. Invincible."
"You'd have to be alive to finish firing." John murmurs mildly. "If it got as bad as fire from all directions, automatic weapons, or just more than I could handle before crawling off somewhere... I'd breach the veil. But we have to increase that tolerance. I don't want you turning Crinos because someone decides to shoot at you. I want you to be able to return fire. Or failing that, get the fuck out of there, /alive/."
"Okay, I've been shot, now. I surrvived. I won't shift. Hasn't that been proven? Why do I need to get shot again?" Dizzy asks, a tad annoyed.
John rolls his eyes. "Because you're starting to piss me off?" he rumbles, under his breath. "You want I should just catch you by surprise sometime? You'd freak. Look what you did, before! You screamed, and curled up in the wolf. That's /not/ going to work out there. This is why. That was unsatisfactory." His eyes narrow, and he slips the mag back into the gun. "Look." he murmurs softly. "Jon nearly died. He didn't know how to handle getting shot, and he didn't think to shift. But there's more important things than just shifting. You're safe here. But if that happens out there..." The Ahroun shrugs. "You could get hurt. Killed. I don't know. I just know I don't want that. I want you /prepared/."
Dizzy is visably taken off guard by the Ahroun's words. "Well, uh... I know you care, but..." she sighs, "I dunno if I'm really up for all this werewolf sh-stuff. Running around getting shot and tore up by demon things from hell? I was a little okay with my duty as going around all secret like and running when the shit hits the fan, but... well... I don't think I can do it, you know?" Again, she sighs, shifting back into homid and folding her arms in her lap. "I don't think I can be a garou."
John exhales slowly and notes, "Ah." He looks down to the gun, and ejects the clip again. Making his way over to the shelves of supplies, he reaches into a box of nine millimetre bullets, and starts slipping them into the clip. "Fair enough. I can't teach you this part. But let's put it like this..." Snapping the clip back into the handgun, he heads back to the pile of clothes. "We're not human. Remember that. We can do all sorts of things humans can't... because we're expected to /do/ all sorts of things humans can't. We're /meant/ to do those things. That's our purpose. The same as a human's is to exist in order and in a pattern, ours is to fight for Gaia. The city's alive. We're its immune system."
Relieved that the shooting seems to be over, Dizzy leans over and grabs her shirt from the ground and slips it back on. "I suppose it's stupid to ask why, huh? Dads is a garou, so I am too, right? Even if I'm ill equipped for the job... I don't get a choice."
The Ahroun winces again and runs a hand over his face. "You're not ill-equipped. You're ill-equipped to /fight/, compared to /me/, sure." He picks up his rig, and slips the weapon into it, before reaching to grab his t-shirt and slip it on. "But we need to do more than just that. And you're still well-equipped to fight. In a pack." He sighs again. "Gaia. I need to find a Raggie to teach you what it means to be one. I mean... damn." His head hangs a little as he slips his harness on, over the shirt. "Little lost here."
"Well, in a pack, we'd be less likely to get jumped by gangs, right? They don't normally attack groups of people. Unless, of course, it's a rival gang or something." Dizzy scratches her nose idly, "But, not just a pack, like, just all of us cubs together again. Not that I'm lonely or anything."
John fastens his rig securely, and then reaches down to grab his jacket. Shrugging into it, he grunts, "I haven't talked to Daisy, yet... but I'm going to, soon. About you cubs. You know.. I want you back out there, and free to roam."
Dizzy looks up and silently mouths a 'thank you.' She focuses back on the Ahroun, "With restrictions, I guess?"
"No more than I usually demand. Learn to recognize trouble. And keep the fuck away from it. That's something you no moons should be good at." John reaches for his trenchcoat, and slips that on, too. Watching the cub consideringly.
Dizzy stays sitting there, she'll probably get up once John leaves. "Belive me, there will not be a repeat of that one night."
John just stands there, straightening his sleeves and watching the cub. Lips thinning as he watches her, eventually he murmurs, "You ok?"
Dizzy nods pushing her hair back, "Yeah. I'm okay. Life is just... really complicated. More than just this stuff, too. I just need some time to think about it, sort it all out, you know?"
The Ahroun frowns. "What other complications." he asks, quietly. With a hint of weariness.
Dizzy waves a hand in the air, as if brushing something away. "Like Dads is weird and such. He doesn't even want me calling him until I've rited, and there's the whole school issue. I really want to keep going, but I'm wondering if it's just as well as if that my human side is supposed to be dead or whatever, now that I'm not a human, or whatever."
John rubs a hand over his face again. "Look... you might have to do part-time or something. Something external, I don't know. But you have to be able to drop everything for the fight." He sighs and starts towards the door. "I don't know. Ask someone else about this shit. I don't have any life /other than/ the fight. The Tribe. Being Garou. It's what I am, what I do, what I think. Live, eat, breathe, sleep. Try someone else. Find yourself a Raggie."
Dizzy simply nods, and sits there, thinking.
John makes his way up the steps, closing the door behind him with a solid *thunk*.